


love me like it's prom night

by ej (mirandabeach)



Category: Asagao Academy: Normal Boots Club, Hidden Block (Video Blogging RPF)
Genre: M/M, Prom, finally a fic with some plot, i'll post a second chapter of 'next prom' sometime next week, sort of, you don't even know how long it took me to make them hold hands i'm so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 10:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7219390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirandabeach/pseuds/ej
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He really did regret finishing off the punch, making fiddling with an empty cup and people watching his only entertainment. He didn’t want to be 'that guy', on his phone at a school function. He’d never.</p><p>But luckily for Luke, 'that guy' had just come out of the crowd, phone in his hand just like he knew it would be as he took his place next to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love me like it's prom night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glassonmyshoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassonmyshoes/gifts).



> [slams hands on table] brutaltown prom
> 
> thanks a bunch to my friend first for listening to me cry about this fic for like. 3 days straight. ur a pal!!! <3
> 
> title and inspiration from 'prom night' by anamanaguchi

This year’s prom at Asagao wasn’t a very extravagant affair.

Which was surprising, considering the large amounts of money being funneled into the school every which way. Rich parents, even richer benefactors, and old money that probably came from a hidden fortune in some dead guy’s abandoned mansion were Asagao’s backbone.  

And their gymnasium was _nice_ ; a new set of bleachers and basketball courts installed just last year. It was pristine, shiny and reeked of new floor smell. Even the basketball _team_ felt bad about scuffing up the floor during practice and games.

And yet the only decorations the Homecoming committee seemed to be able to come up with were dollar store tablecloths and no more than 20 balloons. Luke couldn’t believe it, feeling _way_ too overdressed for a high school prom of all things.

Luke was in a full tuxedo, suit jacket and dress shirt ironed to perfection and as wrinkle-free as a teenage boy could manage. He even got himself a corsage, small and dainty but still a bright blue to bring out his eyes. But his signature black snapback was still perched on his head. It was practically glued there, and Luke will admit falling asleep in it more than a normal person probably should. It kind of ruined the “fancy” look he was going for, but now that he was in the middle of the gym floor, he figured he’d be alright on that front.

At least the DJ was decent, the music ranging from mid-2000’s pop to the obligatory slow songs that came out before any of them were even born. And everyone looked _gorgeous_ ; the girls with their elegant gowns and the other boys with their unique and laughable attempts at dressing up.

Luke didn’t really know what to do for the rest of the night, already bouncing between chatting with friends and emptying the punch bowl during the first hour of the dance. He now sat on the bottom row of the bleachers, which were left jutting out in case students needed to take a break from dancing. Or be anti-social and sit as close to the exit as possible. The teachers didn’t judge.

He really did regret finishing off the punch, making fiddling with an empty cup and people watching his only entertainment. He didn’t want to be _that guy_ , on his phone at a school function. He’d never.

But luckily for Luke, _that guy_ had just come out of the crowd, phone in his hand just like he knew it would be as he took his place next to him.

Ian was… well, _Ian_ . And Luke didn't mean that in a bad way! He'd just never met anyone quite like him. No one even came _close_. Ian really was all unicorns and pudding on the inside, as Wallid liked to say in jest whenever he wasn't acting like a hardass. He watched old people TV, reruns of 70’s game shows and sitcoms. He constantly fiddled with ancient cameras and electronics, eyes lighting up like they were one of his puzzle games.

Luke wouldn’t have wanted anyone else for a roommate. And he definitely wasn’t saying that because of his rad music tastes. That was just a nice bonus.

“You got some sweet dance moves.” Luke couldn’t help but smile thinking about his friend trying to dance to the ridiculous songs played earlier. Ian had protested, saying they were _“definitely ‘JAMS’ worthy and deserve to be danced to!”_ before Luke had laughed and walked away, onto the next of his friends and their terrible dancing.

“Oh shut up. Not like you’re any better at it than me.” The fondness flooded Ian’s tone, and there was an obvious smile sitting in his palm. He had actually put his phone away, giving Luke his full attention as he hunched over with his elbow resting on his knee. The position scrunched up his simple dress shirt and slacks, and Luke silently cursed the world for creating wrinkles. He’d have to let him borrow some of his wrinkle remover later.

“Oh, I doubt it. Dance battle in my room later?” Ian’s eyebrows furrowed, face open like he wanted to curse at the ridiculousness of his friend challenging him to a dance battle in the middle of _prom_. But he just shook his head and giggled, finally straightening up and leaning his back against the folded bleachers.

“I’d kick your _ass_ at DDR and you know it.” Luke wanted to argue, keep up the weird joke-banter they had going on, but he couldn’t help it. His body racked with shakes as he laughed, full and genuine. He laughed because that was just _so_ Ian. He couldn’t even explain how, but it just was.

“Alright alright. But I swear, I’m a fantastic dancer.” He was finally able to breathe again, small hiccups finally subsiding into slightly heavier breaths. When he looked up at his friend, Ian had an odd look on his face. His eyes were gentle but his expression nearly unreadable. Maybe... something like longing?

But then he was turning away, sitting up with his face back in his hand and other clutching at the seat.

“Show me sometime. Maybe next prom.”

And that’s when something in the air changed. Maybe Luke finally realized what kind of ridiculously private bubble they were in, in the back corner of their high school gymnasium during the shittiest prom ever, smiling at each other and already planning a video game after-party. Maybe he finally noticed the way the soft glow of the minimal lights fell over Ian’s hair. He had put some gel in it, Luke could tell.

It looked like it was glowing, a halo wrapped around every one of his features.

There was a surge of _feeling_ in Luke’s chest and his hand moved forward faster than his brain, leaving it in the dust. He managed to catch up when his fingers were inches from Ian’s, taking a breath before they fell next to his on the edge of the bleachers.

He had no idea what he was doing; maybe there was something in the punch after all? Maybe his shirt collar was too tight, cutting off much needed oxygen to his brain? Oxygen that Luke desperately needed for his brain to realize that suddenly reaching out to hold your best friend’s hand was a _horrible_ idea _._

But he wanted to. He wanted to hold his hand; as they left their lackluster prom for a sweet after-party, as they sat together at lunch laughing with the rest of their friends, as they stayed up late into the night laying side by side in the grass under Ian’s favorite tree.

Luke would settle with this for now.

His brain felt like it was shoving itself into his ears, fuzzy and loud and honestly _the worst_. It felt like an eternity had passed before Luke’s hand pressed itself lightly against Ian’s, even longer before he hooked his pinky around his.

It was odd, but Luke didn't have time to savor it. His eyes went wide when Ian’s hand moved away, only coming right back to completely cover his own. Their fingers laced together and Luke was taken back by how _warm_ the entire gesture was. It left him abuzz, butterflies slamming against his chest and suit jacket feeling _way too hot_ . Neither of them could look at each other, and all they could do is minutely squeeze the other’s hand to say _‘I’m here. I’m here.’_

When Luke finally gathered the courage to chance a glance, he saw the back of Ian’s head. It was glowing just as brightly as before, but it was outshined by the pink staining his ears and neck.

Yeah, he would settle with this for the night. Eventually, Ian might turn to him with an even pinker face. His face would be contorted from trying to hold back a smile, and his hand would start to shake.

And Luke would just squeeze tighter.


End file.
